Unscripted
by KGSoprano
Summary: Kat is an ordinary American, striving to be an actress. Enter centerstage, a tall red head who will rewrite the script of her life. What role will she play in the brewing conflict? RWOC. Done, but not, if that makes sense. NONDH
1. PROLOGUE

Hello everyone! This is my first fic, so might as well get off to a good start. Flames are OK, I guess, but constructive criticism is preferred. Thanks to my Beta, Bekah!

DISCLAIMER: Pssh, yeah right. This applies to all further chapters

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**PROLOGUE**

April 4th, 2007

_Rita Skeeter_: Hello, luvly. I, as you well know, am Rita Skeeter, freelance reporter. And you, are little Miss Rina Gene, am I correct? Yes, well, I always am.

_Rina Gene_: I may have lived as a muggle for the first twenty years of my life, but that does not mean I am naïve to your ways. Shall we begin?

_Skeeter_: Quite... Now, would you mind telling our readers a bit about yourself?

_Gene_: My name is Rina Gene. I am an actress in the muggle world, a curiosity in the wizarding world, and a savior in both. My mother still doesn't know that wizards and witches exist, and I doubt she would handle the information well. I am American, born and raised. I was first introduced to the possibility of magic in 1991 with the publishing of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_, when I was eleven.

Everything said in that interview was the truth, except my name. My name is really Katarina Gene Springer. Can you see where I got "Rina Gene"? I am famous all over the worlds. Yes, worlds plural: wizarding, and muggle. I am a rarity. No one expected someone like me to ever exist. I defied all rules of science and magic, and walked out no worse for the wear. Am I vain? Slightly. Sarcastic? Witty? Sharp? Impulsive? Powerful? Yes, to all. Talented? In many ways. Conceited? Maybe a little. I have a great life. It's not perfect by any means, but I don't think I would trade it for anyone or anything. I have had my share of trials and tribulations, and of ecstasy and happiness. My relationship with the love of my life, my true love, started on lies, on both ends. But still, by the end of our second date, we had come clean, and knew more about each other than any other person we had ever met. We truly have seen it all. My story is a long one, beginning on my birth on July 4th 1980, and ending who-knows when. Would you like to hear it? Very well, I shall begin on the day when I received my assignment, a balmy day in late September of 1999. Where? In New York City, center of the universe.

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Ooh, I'm getting all tingly! I'm going to post the first chapter right now, too, that way you actually have something to read! ;-D 


	2. The Assignment

See? Told you I'd post this at the same time! Thanks again to Bekah. See prologue for disclaimer.**  
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**Chapter 1: The Assignment**

September 27th, 2002

"You have an assignment this weekend."

A collective groan swelled through the classroom.

"Stop grousing you lazy butts! It's easy. I want you all to be someone else when you meet a stranger. I don't care who, but you have to be someone who doesn't exist. For example, you could give yourself a British accent and act as though you're visiting from the U.K. Get it? Got it? GOOD."

I clicked my pen shut and shoved my notebook in my messenger bag. I was starting to regret taking _Stage Right: A Course in Developing Characters_. It was probably the worst choice I had ever made regarding college courses. But I needed the credits. What harm could it do? Ok, a lot, but that's not the point. I shuffled over to Jackie, the only other person in the class who I got along with (thanks our mutual hatred of it).

"Noreen is SUCH a pain. Why the hell did she give us homework? Why the hell are we even here? We're just wasting our time, twiddling our thumbs, when we could be out there, ONSTAGE, in some Broadway theatre!" She ranted, as she had every day for the past few weeks.

"For the fifteen-billionth time, Jackie, we're here because our parents wanted for us to get a good education so we could fall back on something when our acting thing didn't work out. Bet they didn't realize you could get an education in acting!" It was practically our dialogue. We'd switch, one of us would say awful stuff about Noreen Clark, our teacher, and the other would respond about how stupid our parents were. Well, her parents, my mom. Dad had been supportive before- well, just before, I guess.

"What are you going to do?" Jackie asked as we walked to Starbucks.

"I dunno, talk in French probably."

"In French? You mean in a French accent?"

"No, in French. I haven't told you this story? I was fluent in French at the age of three, the 'rents enrolled me in a French pre-school. I picked it up again in Junior High, and got really good. It's an easy way to do the assignment; hardly anyone else speaks French, so the conversation will be over before you could say '_Sacré_ bloody _bleu_.'"

"Kat, you should know that I now hate you with an unearthly passion. Why can't I be bilingual?" She whined

"'Cuz your parents weren't weird like mine. C'mon, I need a caffeine fix."

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Six o'clock found me walking my mother's enormous Great Dane in Central Park, humming _Phantom of the Opera. _Bear stilled and started woofing his deep "_WHUMPH"_ sound. He bolted for the nearest tree.

"BEAR! _Arrêtes! Arrêtes! S'asseoir!_" I dug my heels into the dirt, continuing to tell him to stop and to sit. He rarely listens to anyone, but for some reason he seems to like French better than English. And yet he's a German dog named for Denmark. I love the beast, but he is the most complex canine I have ever met, and possibly the most annoyingly adorable one. I stumbled backwards as the leash slackened unexpectedly.

"_ZUT! MERDE!_" Swearing as I raised myself gingerly, I saw Bear's muddy paws on the chest of a tall, red-haired man. An opportunity had arisen for shameless flirting (weakness for tall red-heads had something to do with it, I suppose) without repercussions, because I would be speaking in French, thus completing my assignment. HECK YES. "_Pardon, pardon._"

"Oh, it's no problem at all, I like dogs. And I'm sure I can get the mud out with-" An English accent? Ah, _très mignon_, very cute. But I had to cut him off.

"_Quand? Oh, je suis désolé! Je ne parle pas l'anglais, seulement français. Je suis de Cassis, France._" I spouted. He reached into his pocket, and a brief flicker of concentration passed through his cobalt eyes.

"_Français? Mais je parle français aussi. C'est ma deuxième langue. Je suis d'Angleterre. Je m'appelle, er, Rob."_ Oh my freaking god. He was considerably taller than my five-foot-ten, a red-head, had an English accent, AND he spoke French? _Mon dieu,_ I was about to swoon.

"_Finalement ! Que qui parle le français! Je m'appelle Kat, et il s'appelle Bear, ou Ours en français._" Words babbled unchecked from my mouth. Rob smiled and squatted, scratching Bear under the chin. Bear gave his somewhat famous doggy grin, mouth open, tongue lolling, and eyes rolled upwards. The Beast and the read-head looked oddly good together. He whined as Rob unfolded himself, but soon found himself more interested in a squirrel.

As my arm was nearly jerked out of its socket, I called over my other shoulder, "_Au revoir, Rob! Et je suis désolé de ta chemise!_"

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"IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL DAY!" I belted with Bono, dancing erratically. As I moved past the window, I noticed lights on in the formerly vacant apartment across the street from mine.

"BEAR! Do you wanna go for a walk, you monster?" Time for snooping. This is why I love baby-sitting Bear; he's a perfect pretense. Said monster galloped into the room, the broad leash clamped in his mouth. I clipped it to his collar and walked to the elevator. I dragged Bear towards the opposite complex. He walked, nose to the ground, to the boxes on the curb.

"Bonjour, Bear! Salut, Kat!" My eyebrows went considerably higher as I saw Rob walk out, carrying empty cardboard boxes. He dumped them near the others and we kissed cheeks, as was customary in my 'country of origin'. He bent his neck backwards and called up to the newly inhabited apartment, "OY! JAMES! GET DOWN HERE!" I fixed a puzzled expression on my face.

"James? Qui est James?" I asked.

"James est mon meilleure ami. Nous habitons ensemble."

"Ah." A raven haired man, slightly shorter than my five-foot ten height walked out.

"Mate, this is the girl I was telling you about. The one I met in the park," Rob said, not lowering his voice.

"The hot, French bird?" James answered, in a similar British accent. Hot, French bird? Oh là là! Wait. Oh my god. I realized the French thing had gone too far. He really didn't know that I could comprehend what they were saying.

"ROB! Rob!" I turned to James and looked into his piercingly green eyes with my own flecked ones. "Un moment, s'il vous plaît." I grabbed Rob's elbow and led him a bit farther away from James. "Rob, j'ai un aveu. Je ne suis pas de France. Français n'est pas ma première langue. English is. I'm an American. I was actually born not too far from here, in NYU hospital." I bit my lip waiting for a response.

"So you've been able to comprehend everything that Ha - erm, James and I have said?" He wondered, incredulously.

"Yeah... I live in the apartment directly across from yours, in 15C. I know, I know. Your thinking that it makes no sense for me to randomly be speaking French with you. Actually, it's not that random. I'm majoring in the performing arts, and one of my acting assignments was to be someone other than myself to a stranger. So, I took my fluidity in French and used it. Yes, I really am Kat, and this is really Bear, and I'm really really sorry that I sort of lied to you and that-" I blathered quickly, and he cut me off with a deep laugh,

"You're not mad?"

"Mad! Of course not! It's bloody hilarious!" I blinked, bewildered.

"I still feel really guilty! Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

"Well... I suppose there is one way..." He grinned mischievously.

"And?"

"The only way you could POSSIBLY apologize properly... is if you let me take you to dinner tomorrow night." Ho-ly. Shit. He just asked me out. SCORE!

"I'd like that, merci." We walked back over to James.

"Hello, James. Maybe I should reintroduce myself. I'm Kat Springer. I live just across the street. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask." I kept a deadpan face as I watched James react. He turned to Rob.

"Mate, why is she speaking English?"

"I'll explain later. Tomorrow at eight then, Kat? Nothing too fancy, and bring Bear."

Oh, lord. He wants me to bring the bloody dog.

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oooh... You see that button? it's begging! puppy dog eyes Please? 


	3. Questions and Answers

Hello... I recently realized that I only translated "_Arrêtes! Arrêtes! S'asseoir!_" which means "Stop! Stop! Sit!" I think I owe it to you translate the rest of the stuff.

"_ZUT! MERDE!_" SHOOT! SHIT! Sometimes _Zut_ is used as shit if you put a translator on American movies, or in slightly modernized cultures.

"_Pardon, pardon_" Excuse me, excuse me_  
_

_"Très mignon,"_ Very cute

"_Quand? Oh, je suis désolé! Je ne parle pas l'anglais, seulement français. Je suis de Cassis, France_." What? Oh, I'm sorry! I don't speak English, only French. I am from Cassis, France.

"_Français? Mais je parle français aussi. C'est ma deuxième langue. Je suis d'Angleterre. Je m'appelle, er, Rob_." French? But I speak French, also. It is my second language. I am from England. My name is, er, Rob.

_"Mon Dieu,"_ My god, (like our OMIGOD!)

"_Finalement ! Que qui parle le français! Je m'appelle Kat, et il s'appelle Bear, ou Ours en français_." Finally! Someone who speaks French! My name is Kat, and his name is Bear, or Ours in French.

"_Au revoir, Rob! Et je suis désolé de ta chemise!_" Goodbye, Rob! And I'm sorry about your shirt!

I'm going to post this even though the only review I've gotten is one of someone I know narrows eyes accusingly ;-) But, I haven't given anyone that much time, and I want people to see my work, so... TADAA!**  
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**Chapter 2: Questions and Answers**

I tore frantically through my closet, searching for appropriate attire. I didn't want to look too dressy; it would seem like I was trying too hard. But if I was too casual, I might look like I really didn't care and that I wasn't interested.

"AUGH! Bear, help me out here." Not hearing his nails click on the floor I looked around for him. I heard a pitiful whine and saw a nose poking out of the pile of clothes on my bed. "Oh, Bear, you stupid dog." I started clearing things off of him. He shook himself and a pair of navy blue sweats and a green polo hit me in the face. "I take it back. You, my doggy friend, are a genius."

After dressing and applying some neutral make up, I grabbed stuff for the newfound fashionisto, and waited by the door. I heard the bell, counted to ten, and opened the door.

"Shall we go, Mademoiselle?" He drawled, extending a leg and sweeping out a bow.

"Ah, such the gentleman, Monsieur!" I placed my arm on his. We didn't make it to the elevator before breaking into hysteric laughter. We walked, his hands in his pockets, mine clenched around Bear's leash. Rob lead me to Central Park, right to a place close Bear had first tackled him. It was a large, fenced-in area where dogs were allowed off their leashes. I unclipped Bear's and grabbed a large stick, chucking it for him.

"I'll be right back, just need to grab our dinner," Rob said, after a while of idle chatting (and stick throwing). He strolled off.

"Now what do you think he has planned?" I asked Bear. The dumb Dane just nudged his nose into my stomach, whacking me with the stick. "Yeah, yeah, you stupid mutt. Here you go." I leaned back and threw the stick as far as I could.

"Nice throw. How'd you get so good?" I spun to see Rob carrying a large picnic basket. He threw the blanket on the ground and I flopped down.

"I grew up in the 'burbs. We moved out of the city before I started grade school, and by the time I was twelve, I had fallen in love with softball. I played catcher and outfield mostly, so I got a pretty strong arm, throwing from the outfield to home, or from home to a base. Did you ever play any sports?" I helped him unpack the basket. Bear came over and started making a general nuisance of himself.

"Well, I went to a private school, and we played a game that you've probably never seen or played. But I became keeper, which I guess is equivalent to a goalie in football." Football? Right, English, they call soccer football. I looked in the basket for any food we hadn't pulled out, and saw a can of dog-food.

"You thought about Bear! Oh, that's so sweet." I grabbed the can, dumped it onto the extra plate, and placed it in front of the dog.

"Yeah, well, I have a certain affinity to large black dogs." I opened one of the Tupperware containers and served myself some pasta salad. We sat, silently eating, and scratching or throwing the stick to Bear. It wasn't an awkward silence, more of a peaceful one. When we were done eating, we packed up. Rob leaned up against the maple tree behind us, and before I noticed what I was doing, I had leaned up against him. Bear trotted over and threw himself down, placing his head on my lap. As we watched the sun finish setting, Rob struck up conversation again.

"You said last night you were majoring in the performing arts. What kinds of things are you interested in?"

"Well, I've always loved performing, and I've been playing music since the age of three. I play piano, flute, piccolo and I sing. I really want to be on Broadway someday."

"That sounds amazing. None of my family was really that musical, except me. I would have studied music if they had offered it at Hog- er, where I went to school. Plus it was a boarding school, so I couldn't really go off campus for lessons. Not many people know that I actually have a pretty decent voice."

"My dad was musical. He sang and played guitar. My mom is tone-deaf. She actually doesn't much approve of the acting thing, which is why I'm going to college and not straight to auditions. She agreed to continue paying for my singing lessons if I kept going to school, and if I would take care of Bear when she went away."

"And your dad - does he approve?" He looked a bit puzzled.

"He did." I looked away, and rubbed at my eyes with the heel of my palm.

"Did? What do you mean - oh. Oh, I'm so sorry. What happened?" I heard the sudden comprehension in his voice. I hiccupped.

"You don't have to tell me. Just forget it if you want." He sounded really concerned.

"No, it's fine. You'd probably end up finding out eventually, why the hell not now? My dad worked in television. He would edit the film on shows and just make it look good in general." I took a deep breath. Not many people knew this, and I had never told anyone this early after meeting them.

"Every once in a while, he would be approaching a deadline, and he'd have to work long hours. In one show, it was really bad, he'd leave at four in the morning, after being up for an hour, and wouldn't get back till, like, ten-thirty at night, plus he'd go in on weekends. Towards the end of that episode, after about two weeks of that schedule, we went into the City to see a Broadway show with him. My mom hated the commute from the suburbs to the city, so we dropped our car off at the bus station and took the bus in. After the show, we got into my dad's car, and drove home. We dropped my mom off so she could get her car, and started driving back to the house." I bit my lip and swallowed. Sure, Mom had to deal with the grief, but she didn't see what I did. I felt a large hand around mine, and looked up into his eyes.

"Take your time, Kat. Just keep breathing." I smiled thankfully.

"We were nearly home, and suddenly the fatigue got the better of him. He fell asleep. His foot became a dead weight on the gas pedal, and gravity started spinning the steering wheel. The car drifted, and crashed into a telephone pole. My dad died almost instantly." By this point I was crying lightly, but I barreled on. "One of the people who lived in the surrounding houses saw the crash and called 9-1-1. I was hurt, but not unconscious, because I was sitting in the back seat, so when the paramedics came, I could see his body... beaten and broken from the impact, and the air bag, and-"I shook and sobbed silently.

"Sh... sh... poor girl... sh..." He pulled me into a hug and stroked the top of my head. "How old were you when this happened?"

"N-n-nearly fourteen. He w-was fifty-three."

"Dear Merl- er, God. Sh... sh..." A few minutes later, I hiccupped a bit and straightened. I grabbed a paper napkin, swabbed under my eyes and blew my nose.

"Thanks. I haven't broken down like that for a few years... oh, and I've ruined another of your shirts! It's all wet and has mascara... I'm sorry." I couldn't help laughing as I said that. Two shirts in as many days.

"C'mon. I'll walk you home... it's certainly not out of my way!" I clipped Bear back onto his leash and Rob pulled me up. We left the park, never letting go of each others' hand.

"Ugh, let's shake the mood," I suggested.

"No problem. Up for a bit of random questioning?"

"Sure."

"Favorite color?"

"Purple. You?"

"Red."

"Favorite book?"

"It's not one you'd be familiar with. But if you want one you'd know, I'd probably say King Arthur. You?"

"Harry Potter. You know, you look like I imagine Ron would look in a few years... Hey, Rob, Ron, very similar."

He looked surprised, and even a bit panicked.

"Heh, how about that?"

"Ron has been my favorite character from very early on. I know Hermione calls him shallow, but I think he has more depth and character than the H's do."

"I'd have to agree with you on that." He chuckled, and seemed oddly pleased with himself. "Favorite food?"

"Chicken marsala. Any siblings?"

"Five brothers and a sister. Any for you?"

"Your family sounds like my cousin's. Um, not biologically, but I have quite a few unofficial younger siblings and a couple of really close cousins. Why'd you move to NYC."

"Favor to, ahem, James. He needed help with something." We arrived on the stoop of my complex. "Would you care for a second date?"

"Most definitely. Thank you for a wonderful night." I grabbed my keys and fiddled with them.

"Same time next week? Oh, and Bear probably shouldn't come, I'm not sure how well they'd handle a Great Dane in a movie theatre."

"Don't worry, he's going back to my mother tomorrow. Next Saturday sounds good. Good night!" I stretched up and pecked his cheek. I spun quickly, and let myself in, shutting the door behind me. I peeked through the window and saw Rob walking home. I leaned against the door and sighed. What a perfect night.

"WHUMPH!"

Lord, I locked the dog out.

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I beg of you... REVIEW! REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW! giggles I'll make you all HP-themed cookies! 


	4. Coming Clean

Hello, my luverlies! Sorry for taking so long to post. I've been really busy what with school work, WONDERLAND! rehearsals, and my first official beau. Special thanks to the people who reviewed my previous chapters! P.S. I got a little writer's block so I wrote a oneshot titled Tearful Calls. It's not the best, but I'd love if you'd check it out!

**ProcrastinatingPyro09:** Aw, you are TOO kind. Giggles and blushes Love the penname; it applies to me, too.

**Flipflopper333:** See? I'm posting, I'm posting! Not that fast, but I'm posting!

**.Sweet Lies.Bitter Truths.: **You, my dear, don't count. I know you on a personal level! GRRRR. Psh, monkey… oy vey, what happened to the goat?

**Everyone else who reviews or reviewed:** I live on you're input!

Once again, thanks to my beta. Disclaimer: examines VERY fine print at the back of the Harry Potter books "Made In England by J.K. Rowling"………… darn. WARNING: HBP SPOILERS IN THIS CHAPTER Chapter 3: Coming Clean 

"You met a guy, didn't you? Gimme the details!" Jackie cried the following Monday.

"Perceptive, much?" I asked.

"Well, you had a more dazed than usual look on your face all through Snoreen's lesson, and you didn't even get up when she dismissed us! The last time you were that dreamy, it was the time you fancied yourself in love with that foreign guy!"

"We swore NEVER to speak of that unfortunate incident again. And yes, I did, Ms. More-Intelligent-Than-Thou!"

"Yeesh, sorry. But seriously, what's he look like? How'd you meet him?"

"Weeeeellll, I was walking the Monster, and he literally ran into him. I started doing our assignment with him, and then I found out that he lives in the complex across from mine, so I had to come clean. His name is Rob, he's tall, like taller-than-me, tall, like six-foot-five-tall. AND he's a redhead. AND he's got amazing blue eyes. AND he's fluent in French, AAAANNNND… he… is… BRITISH."

Her squeals were contagious, and before too long, Jackie and I were bouncing in circles screaming our brains out.

"Mmkay, mmkay, calm composure, deep breaths. Let's be normal shall we?" We linked arms and strolled off campus, Jackie milking me for an in-depth description of everything that happened. She laughed when I told her how Bear had picked my outfit for me.

"Next time Rob asks you out, ask for MY advice, and not the Monster's."

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As I stepped in the door to my room, the phone started ringing.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Kat? It's Rob."

"Oh, hi! What's up?" 

"Well, I heard about a concert in the Park, and was wondering if you'd maybe like to grab a bite to eat and then head over?"

"Sounds like fun. But we can't stay too late, don't forget, I'm still taking college courses."

"No problem, it ends at ten-ish. So I'll pick you up in about an hour?"

" That's fine! And I assume Bear is unwelcome?"

He laughed. "I'm not sure the restaurant would like a Great Dane stealing their customers' food. Till then?"

"All right, _à tout à l'heur_."

I pressed the little hang-up-button (? B, help me with this, isn't there a name for it? And remind me to delete this note) and speed dialed Jackie. Within fifteen minutes, she was tearing through my clothes the way I had only two days before. After dressing and having her primping, styling, and attacking my head in general, the doorbell rang. She dashed into the kitchenette where she could get a good look at him (without him seeing, of course), and I opened the door.

"_Bon soir, Mademoiselle._" He leaned down and kissed my cheek. I saw Jackie spazing in my kitchen out of the corner of my eye.

Rob put his arm around my waist and we left. He steered me towards a quaint diner, and we sat down.

"I love little restaurants like this. A busy little smidgen of the suburbs in the middle of chaotic New York City," I commented, tearing into a breadstick.

"It seemed appropriate. Something as pretty as the Park doesn't really belong either, you know?" I nodded, not wanting to show him the mess in my mouth.

Our date continued, though Rob appeared nervous, and kept looking around anxiously. He wolfed his dinner faster than Bear could dream of, and I took my cue from him. We paid the check and left for the park, walking too fast to see the city at night. He seemed even more jittery, jumping, and grabbing at his pocket anytime we heard a light noise. I stopped him.

"You OK?" I asked. "You seem a little jumpy."

"Do I, now? I'm fine, just a little nervous about doing this." He took both of my hands in his, brought them to the small of my back and leaned towards me. I reached up on my toes, and closed my eyes, our lips touching. Rob's hands flattened against my back as a warm feeling rushed through my veins. I drew my hands up, winding them around his neck. I smiled into the kiss, and found him asking entrance. I was about to comply, when –

_CRACK!_

This time we both jumped.

"Oh, this city! Never a peaceful - " I broke off, seeing Rob's expression. "Rob? Hello? What's wro - " My voice caught in my throat. The warm, gooey feeling seemed to turn to lead within me. I hear metal crunching into wood, over and over, and felt my heart being wrenched apart as wide as it had eight years before.

"Kat. Get. Down." I could hear but I couldn't comprehend. I turned to see several figures heading toward us, all in black hooded cloaks. The foremost one bore a silver skull mask, and walked with a grace I could never accomplish. The rest had faces that were completely obscured, the only clue that they might be alive being the rattling, sucking breaths coming from beneath the hood. And if the masked one was gliding, they were positively soaring. Where his cloak was impeccably cleaned and whole, theirs were dirty and torn, trailing behind them as they moved.

"What – what are those _things_?"

"What things?" He turned to me, puzzled. 

"Don't you see them? Those hovering, gasping things…"

"You see them, too?" He looked confused.

"Why wouldn't I?" As he finally pulled his hand out of his pocket, my confusion only increased. Why was he carrying about a bit of wood?

"And so we meet again." A silky, masculine voice trailed out from under the mask. "And look, here's someone we haven't seen before." He stalked toward me.

"DON'T TOUCH HER!" Rob roared with an intensity I could never have imagined.

"Rob? For Christ's sake, will someone tell me what the FUCK is going on!" I shouted, finally fed up with my bewilderment.

"Rob?" I imagined the stranger's eyebrows rising in surprise as he laughed; a cruel, heartless sound. "Such originality. So, she doesn't know who you are. Just when I thought you couldn't sink any lower, you turn up with this American whore. She's not even one of us, is she?"

Rage boiled in the pit of my stomach. "How _dare_ you?" I strode forward to give him a piece of my mind.

"Kat, no - "

"_SECTUMSEMPRA!_"

It felt like someone had taken a saber and drawn it across my face and torso. A cold metallic feeling filled me, cruel and heartless. I shuddered as I felt blood soak my once green dress, and I sank to my knees. Shivers traipsed down my spine, every nerve sensitive and overly responsive.

"_CRUCIO!_"

My pain intensified by a thousand-fold, and I curled into a shaking ball. Thousands of pins and needles went into my body, pushing in, and pulling out. What felt like giant hands gripped my bones and cracked them, healed them painfully, and cracked them again.

"_Finite Incantatem! Stupefy! Expecto Patronum!_"

I heard footsteps behind me, and flinched as strong arms went under my legs and around my shoulders. My head lolled against his chest. I felt a strange sucking as though someone was forcing me into a tube, then –

_Nothing_.

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"Why didn't you just bring her to St. Mungos?!"

"They'd just obliviate her, once they found out she's not - "

"Which is what we should do, too!"

"Will the two of you quiet down? You're going to wake her!" A new voice joined the din.

"SHUT UP, GINNY!" At least the two voices seemed to agree on something. It sounded like Rob was arguing with an older woman.

"Do you know how much danger she'd be in – that we'd ALL be in – if she knew?"

"Yes, I know, Mum! But she can't be all muggle! I mean, she could SEE them! She could hear them and SEE them!"

"THAT DOESN'T MATT – Really? Oh that _is_ interesting."

"MAY I _SPEAK_ NOW?" The third, previously non-shouting voice came back.

"I suppose, if you must, Ginerva."

I tuned them out and opened my eyes. The room was dim, the only light coming from a shaded window. I looked down at myself. I was in a rather long bed, and wearing a jersey of sorts. **Chudley Cannons**___Must be a local team. Wait, but isn't that Ron's… in Harry Potter…?_Creaks came from the stairs and someone knocked on my door.

"Yes?" My voice was gratingly gravely. The door opened and a somewhat short young woman entered carrying a tray.

"Hi, I'm Ginny." She sat down in the chair by my bed.

"You… sister?" She smiled.

"How'd you tell? The hair? Yes, I'm a year younger. Oh, and I brought you some soup." She set the tray on my lap and stood, turning to open the blinds. I slowly sat up, reaching for the spoon.

"Why… argue?" I asked before bringing the spoon to my mouth. I instantly felt much of my energy return. Ginny bit her lip.

"He'll come up and explain shortly." We sat in awkward silence until more creaks announced Rob's arrival. Ginny rose, and he leaned down to whisper something. She nodded and left, closing the door behind her. Rob sat in the chair his sister has previously occupied, fiddling with a silver phial.

"I think I owe it to you to explain what's going on. I haven't been completely truthful either. My name isn't Rob, it's Ronald Billius Weasley. James, is actually my mate's middle name. His name is Harry James Potter."

I looked at him, my eyebrows raised.

"Oh that's nice, make fun of someone who just nearly died, who's been scared out of her wits, and who still has absolutely NO idea what's going on! Not to mention everything that's happened to her seems in some way dependant on you!"

He reached out to take my hand.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!"

"Kat, I'm not lying! Just look at me for a second!"

I turned towards him dubiously.

"_Orchidious._" A bouquet of flowers burst from the tip of the wand.

"Some sort of psychotic amateur magician, huh?"

"Ok, fine. _Wingardium Leviosa_."

"See? It didn't – AUGH! GET ME DOWN! GET ME DOWN!"

I settled back into the bed, and clutched at the sheets.

" Do it again."

"_Wingardium Leviosa._" I levitated and patted my body down, searching for some tiny wire, something that would explain why I could hover. I grabbed at my back, looking for an extending platform. I began to panic as I started to swing back and forth. I looked at Rob – no, _Ron_ – and saw him waving the same bit of wood that he had pulled out the night before. His _wand_.

"Ok, ok, I believe you! Stop shaking me and set me down! But why are you telling me? Shouldn't you obliviate me? I'm a muggle, remember?"

"That's what Mum and I were arguing about. Are you sure you're not a squib?"

"Yeah, my parents were about as magical as Bear is. Besides, don't squibs usually get asked to go to schools of witchcraft and wizardry anyways?"

"No, only Dumbledore did that, and as an American, the University of Magic wouldn't have taken you. I assume you've read all our books published to date?"

"Of course." I was puzzled by the past tense used with Dumbledore's name.

"Well, Harry, and Hermione agreed that you should be able to stay informed, so we kind of made a miniature pensive of everything that's happened between the end of book four and now. You just have to drink it." He handed me the phial, and I uncorked it. I grimaced at the odor.

"Bottoms up." I raised the phial in a mock toast and pinched my nose. I downed the bottle in one go.

_Dementors…Mrs. Figg a squib… toad-like woman… Fudge… cleared of all charges… Number Twelve Grimmauld Place… Order of the Phoenix… prefect badges… Percy had a row… Luna Lovegood… Ron in keeper robes… High Inquisitor… Dumbledore's Army… Educational Decre… Harry and Cho… Occlumency… Rita Skeeter… Firenze… Snape's Pensieve… Grawp… OWL's… thestrals… the Department of Mysteries… SIRIUS!… prophecy… Neville… _

_Rufus Scrimgeour… Dumbledore's dead hand… Horace Slughorn… Phlegm… You mean – HIM, Draco?… Snape… Half Blood Prince… Merope Gaunt… Katie Bell… Unbreakable Vow… Won Won… Aragog… horcrux… Ron's bezoar… Sectumsempra… Harry and Ginny… Malfoy's triumphant yell… Slytherin's locket… Snape killing Dumbledore… Bill and Greyback…_

_Bill and Fleur's wedding… Ron snogging Hermione… Hermione snogging Charlie… Ron and Hermione separating… Harry, Ron and Hermione compiling a memoir of sorts… getting a reply from Chris Little… Tonks metamorphosing into the imaginary J.K. Rowling and representing the three authors… traveling looking for clues about horcruxes… Neville and Luna's wedding… Charlie on one knee before a squealing Hermione… a clue about America… _

I gasped for breath, my head spinning with all of the information. I felt warm tears against my cheek.

"Sirius? _And_ Dumbledore?"

"Yes. We're still looking for Snape."

"Wait, so, if J. K. is the three of you, what's with all of her background and things about deleted scenes from the books?" I leaned back against the pillows as Rob – no _RON_ – laughed.

"We had fun with that. If we were ever bored on a mission, just standing guard or what have you, we'd invent little tidbits of her. We all chose a bit of her name, J is what Harry chose, for James unsurprisingly. Hermione chose K. The little bit about needing a middle name is kind of true, she had always liked the name Kathleen. I chose Rowling, it sounded kind of like my name with a bit of a tweak."

"Lord…" I closed my eyes, trying to really absorb all that I had just seen.

"You need sleep. Just call if you want anything when you wake up. This kind of information is a lot to handle in one go, not to mention you're still healing." I felt lips on my forehead and drifted off through the black waters of slumber.

------------

_À tout à l'heur _See you later.

_Bon soir, Mademoiselle _Good evening, miss. In French, it's not a bad thing to call someone by their title.

Long, eh? That was seven pages on Word. I hope you liked it. Let me know with suggestions, blah blah blah. And that little button down there is feeling very lonely…


	5. AN

Hello, all. I'm sorry if you thought this was a post, but it's not. As you can tell, I kinda sorta REALLY suck at posting quickly, not to mention I will be taking a holiday somewhere where I have limited computer access shortly. So I have decided to do something a little different. While I'm on vacation (and possibly for a while after) I'm just going to write out the entire fic. I may change a little in what I've already posted, but I don't think that it's going to be too drastic. Sorry to my beta who will get all of the rest of the chapters at the same time… And sorry to my readers who will be waiting for a while for future posts.


	6. AN again

Hello all. I'm sorry for the false alarm, again. I'm going to do what I once thought I never would, and stop this story. I have so many chapters written, but I looked back and realized I had the beginning, the end, a tiny bit of the middle, but nothing to connect it all. I'm very proud of what I have written, but there's nothing I can do with it. If anyone would care to adopt it, please shoot me a message. I do have some conditions, but I will most likely give it to you. You will definitely see more from me, and I have several stories formulating in my head, but I won't do the whole hiatus-into-sitting-on-a-dusty-shelf thing again. Thank you to my faithful readers, and once again, I am so sorry.


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